


This Aching

by magicknickers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Drabble, Dubious Consent, F/M, Non Consensual, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicknickers/pseuds/magicknickers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is an ache in her blood, one she can't wash out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Aching

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for angst, generally dark subject matter, and non-con/dub-con (if you squint)

She  _aches_ , dull and forever. It is too deeply rooted for her to rub the pain away, too agonizing for her to resist trying. Ink stains her fingertips and she does not bother trying to wash it out, the blackness too deeply engrained in the fine lines of her hands for her to simply scrub it off. Still, the urge to rub herself raw and bloodyis there, always lurking in some dark chamber of her mind.

It is unchanging, this existence.

There was early childhood, a barely remembered collection of thoughts and feelings. It is a struggle to recall anything  _before_ , so she stops trying, resigned to leave those memories faint and faded and innocent.

 _“Ginevra...”_ he whispers, and she closes her eyes very tightly, willing him to go away.  _He_ is her present, her past, her future. Those memories are _always_  there, rolling on a constant loop in her mind.

He is still Tom to her. That, too, is unchanging and permanent.

Rolling over in her half-sleep, she tries to force her thoughts elsewhere, but she is drawn back by the feeling of his breathe on her neck, his fingers on her face.

She shudders, keeping her eyes closed. Fear makes her weak and unable to rationalize. She screams in her sleep most nights, her throat rubbed raw and bloody from the animal noises that she makes. The ache throbs, deep inside her, and it spreads like acid through her veins, making her wish she was dead.

It is worse when she dreams. She cannot open her eyes and find him gone, sleep having turned into an unavoidable hell. He is there, awake and alive in her mind, bringing the horrible ache with him.

She gasps, choking on the kiss he forces, helpless to the rough hand that forces its way inside her.

 _“Ginevra...”_  he whispers, and she feels herself being pulled under once more, too weak to fight him any longer.


End file.
